BEFORE railway and
steamboat communication became widely developed in the Northern
Highlands —up till about twenty years ago—shopkeeping in the average
Highland parish was rather a good business. The carrier—whose cart, as a
rule, was of very limited dimensions—the sailing sloop, the small
coasting steamer, and the coach, supplied the ordinary means of
importing goods; and the facilities thus afforded left but a scant
margin for competition in each district. The commercial traveller was
comparatively unknown, and local competition was slight indeed. As a
rule, there was but one or at most two substantial shops in each
Highland parish of those days; and the merchant, with which designation
the shopkeeper is almost invariably dignified by the native residents of
a Highland parish, had the field almost entirely to himself. He was a
general dealer, and sold tea, sugar, coffee, cloth, bonnets, ribbons,
pots and pans, treacle, salt, tobacco, pepper, mouse and rat traps,
fishing-hooks, eyes for other hooks, and these latter hooks themselves,
and various other articles literally too numerous to mention. He was
able at all times to meet the ordinary local wants. He might not and did
not, feel any great alarm at the rumours periodically circulated that
some one intended starting an opposition shop ; and yet he did not feel
absolutely secure in his monopoly, for the increasing travelling
facilities introduced the commercial traveller, and the merchant of the
period we speak of indicated no strong wish to cultivate the
acquaintance of the "trayvullar." The latter might encourage, might
actually set agoing, competition, and as for his own supply of "goods,"
the merchant himself could go to "Glessga " twice a-year for that
purpose; so that really, so thought the merchant, "the trayvullar micht
stay at hoam."

But
the growing facilities of communication gradually began to modify the
supremacy and curtail the trade of the merchant, who, hitherto, had
matters very much his own way. By the aid of large and powerful
steamers, and the extension of railway communication, our remotest
Highland parishes were soon brought within comparatively easy access of
the great centres of commerce. Commercial travellers, representing
retail as well as wholesale houses, now frequently visit every nook and
corner of the Highlands. Not only do these travellers transact business
with the shopkeepers, but those of them that represent retail houses
take orders directly from the native and other residents. In this way a
new, and, from the local shopkeeper's point of view, a less promising,
era began to dawn in the commercial sky of the Northern Highlands.

Nor was the competition confined to that
caused by the frequent visits of commercial travellers, and the growing
facilities for getting "goods" direct from the south. There are other
competing agencies that, very much in consequence of the facilities
alluded to, soon appeared on the scene, and some of them, to this day,
receive no small patronage. There is the packman, with his ready-made
men's clothes, handkerchiefs, collars, and neckties; and there is the
packwoman, endeavouring in like manner to meet the female requirements
in dress and other commodities. Then there is the travelling merchant,
who calls himself a jeweller, carrying a box containing a very varied
assortment of watches, chains, knives and forks, thimbles, pins, hooks
and eyes, and needles,—all which articles are, as a rule, far higher in
price than in value. For a long time these peripatetic vendors succeeded
in driving a flourishing trade. In the days when the average native had
little capacity or inclination for scanning certain features of the
packman's commercial creed, the latter and others of a similar calling
contrived to make it a matter of established belief that a transaction
with them meant a bargain—and hence very much their success. The growing
habit among families, however, of getting goods direct from Inverness,
Aberdeen, Edinburgh, and Glasgow, which goes so far to curtail the trade
of the local shopkeeper, must, and does, very materially interfere with
the success of the travelling vendor's trade.

Within recent years an additional opposition
to local shopkeeping enterprise has made its presence known, in the
shape of what may be called a travelling bazaar. This institution visits
many of our Highland parishes twice yearly. Ordinarily three or four
persons conduct the "business." They come by train with large boxes and
hampers containing a great variety of goods, such as clocks,
looking-glasses, pen-knives, spectacles, watch-chains, knives and forks,
purses, pocket-books, combs, and brushes. They transact business in
somewhat of the lottery fashion, and by their haranguing and their
manner of displaying the commodities for sale, make elaborate and often
ridiculous efforts to impress the residents with a sense of the
marvellous bargains to be had—of the unparalleled cheapness of the
"goods." Large bills are posted on prominent places announcing the
arrival of this institution of marvellous bargains ; and the bazaar, so
well do the elaborate and even the ridiculous efforts succeed, is
literally crowded during the two or three evenings it remains open. It
is proper to observe, as a reason why the various institutions spoken of
constitute opposition to the local shopkeepers, that the various
commodities sold by the former are, as a rule, sold by the latter.

And yet, strange to say, shopkeeping seems
to flourish in Highland parishes. With all the competition specified—and
it is growing where it is most powerful—the noteworthy fact remains,
that within recent years the number of local shops has been increasing.
In Stratheden there are to-day over a dozen shops ; and twenty years
ago, when the population was larger than to-day, there were only two,
while some few years previously one shop did duty for the whole parish.
And how is this rather remarkable phenomenon to be explained? It is just
because, as a Stratheden shopkeeper remarked to us a few days ago, there
is a belief prevalent in the community that shopkeeping is a sure and an
easy way of making money. Some native and other residents see the
shopkeeper, his wife, and bairns, donning the "grawndest kind o' clothes
in the paereesh," and, with a strong faith in appearances, the wondering
observers conclude the shop must be something of a veritable mint. "Why
toil," say some of these wondering ones, " when a shop, which brings in
money so quickly and with so little trouble, may be so easily put up?"
It is very much in consequence of such short-sighted reflections and
rash conclusions that so remarkable an increase in the number of local
shops has taken place within recent years. A crofter's son goes south,
lays by a few pounds of money, returns to his native parish on the
decease of his father, to take possession of the croft, and gets himself
established in the old home. He is not long at home until he thinks the
few pounds he has managed to save cannot be more profitably employed
than in the purchase of some groceries and the other usual equipments of
a Highland shop, and he launches on a commercial undertaking. A crofter
dies, and his widow, preferring to give up the croft, converts the stock
of the croft into money, by means of which a shop is started, and hence
another addition to the local commercial establishments. George, son of
Angus Morison, a Stratheden crofter, went to Glasgow some ten years ago,
and though his ambition soared no higher than that of being a "hand" on
board one of the Clyde dredgers, he managed to save some little money. A
kind of home-feeling, which certain shrewd ones say is akin to laziness,
seized George, and coming back to his home in Stratheden, he started a
shop in a small wooden shed at the end of his father's house. Old
William Nicolson, a Stratheden crofter, died, leaving a widow and an
only daughter, the latter called Janet. There was a small apartment on
the premises, in which the father, who was somewhat of a carpenter, used
to work whenever the requirements of the croft admitted. It was now
unused, and Janet Nicolson and her mother came to think that it might be
profitably occupied. Why not buy some pounds of tea, a hundredweight or
two of sugar, and some other commodities, and start a shop? And these
two did start a shop. Nor was the strictly commercial aspect of the
venture the sole ambition. By the opening of the shop, a twofold object
is gained. The unused carpenter's room again becomes useful, and—so at
least think herself and her mother—Janet's mats-imonial prospects
are improved. blight not one or other of the Stratheden young lads, who
do not by any means despise money or a croft, nor for that matter a
shop, consider Janet, whatever her former and other charms, doubly
attractive in or with the shop? What although certain ones in the
parish—envious young women, disappointed mothers, and, it may be,
rejected suitors—might say all sorts of malicious things whenever
Janet's approaching marriage is announced? Events of this nature, of
course, are freely commented on, especially in rural districts, and it
is scarcely to be expected that all the observations made will be
unprejudiced. The wife and daughter of Alexander Maclean, a Stratheden
crofter, "from the first"—as they said—and, ostensibly, in no degree
influenced by the news of the coming marriage, considered it foolish, if
not daring and utterly reckless, of the aforesaid Janet and her mother
to start a shop. "What were They going to do wi' a shop?" observed Mrs
Alexander Maclean—"there's plenty o' shops before; and Jennat Neeculsan
wi' her pride, and tryin' to be grawnd and that, you'll see she will
soon broke, and what will the grawnd shop do then? It wud look more
liker her, the hussy, to work. wi' a spade .on the Iawnd nor a shop,"
But Alexander Maclean's wife and daughter have no money—no possible
means, indeed, of starting a shop, however much inclined—so that it is
perfectly unnecessary narrowly to scan the motive under which these two
critics gave their verdict anent "Jennat N'eeculsan's" mercantile
undertaking.

Some
of the shops thus suddenly appearing, as suddenly vanish from the
scene—an announcement for which, doubtless, the reader is well prepared.
It is consoling to think, however, that beyond the few pounds embarked
in the too rash venture, no serious loss accrues, and that some of these
adventurous would-be shopkeepers restore their undivided attention to
their crofts, or other occupation, wiser, if not richer people.

There are in Stratheden, as already
mentioned, over a dozen shops —but, with three exceptions, they are very
small and unassuming institutions. In almost every instance the
shopkeeper has a croft, and in more than half the cases the shop is a
mere accessory of the croft. The shopkeepers, without exception, do what
is called a general business or trade. Parcels of drapery fill one
shelf, biscuit-boxes another, and a mongrel collection of confections,
nails, thread, buttons, needles and pins, a third. The universal
tea-chest adorns one corner, and the accompanying sugar-barrel another;
while, in addition to a host of other commodities, metal pots and pans
and other kitchen utensils are suspended along the shelves in a way not
particularly complimentary to the shopkeeper's idea of harmony or
arrangement. A few of the shops; as has been indicated, are of a very
unpretending character—so far as both edifice and merchandise are
concerned, and in such instances no "sign" adorns the building to tell
the passer-by or would-be customer what commodities are for sale, or
that any are for sale. Such establishments, however, must soon
disappear. Larger shops than those that in other days were found
sufficient to meet the local requirements in the average Highland parish
are making their appearance, and these must of necessity soon swamp the
smaller fry.

There
is one shop in Stratheden very much larger than the largest of the
others, and its existence is another proof of the contrast the
Stratheden of to-day presents to the Stratheden of even fifteen years
ago. In most respects this shop eclipses the smaller establishments that
used to do duty before the ceannaiclze mor (big merchant) opened what
some of the native residents, proud of local enterprise, admiringly call
the "big warehoose." The other shops in Stratheden have two elements in
common—scanty light and limited space; but the "big warehoose," built in
1879, is well lighted and roomy. The windows, relatively speaking, are
of immense capacity—the panes indeed being, according to the local idea,
so large that some of the older natives, credulous, and yet doubtful,
for a long time hesitated to believe that there were panes at all !
Another sign of progress is observable in the almost elaborate
advertising displays and other decorations with which the said windows
are done up by the "big merchant." The new shop is also roomy enough—not
merely in the space devoted to the "goods," but as well in the space
ordinarily allotted to customers. This latter is an important fact in
such a place as Stratheden, where customers are not, as a rule, in a
great hurry in making their purchases, and where it is usual to make the
shop a place of concourse for gossip, sometimes harmless, but not seldom
low and despicable. This latter custom, however, like the kindred one of
going to ceilidh in neighbours' houses, is on the wane; but those that
yet respect the habit will warmly appreciate the roomy feature of the
"big warehoose." The "big merchant" is a man of some enterprise, and,
indeed, is somewhat of a credit to Stratheden—his native parish. The son
of a crofter, he left home for the south in early life, and pursued his
trade of house-carpenter, making some little money by his industry and
prudent economy. Returning to Stratheden, he opened a small shop; but
finding his trade increasing, he resolved to build a large shop, and
hence the "big warehoose." Ronald Macgregor—the big merchant —is a
shrewd, sensible sort of individual. Not only was he his own architect
in planning and carrying on the building of the house—a substantial,
neat-looking modern cottage—but he himself wrought most of the
carpenter-work. And not only so; the furniture — chairs, sofas, tables,
and basinstands—have been made by Ronald; and these articles of
furniture would bear favourable comparison with some articles in the
more elaborate displays of some city cabinetmakers' and upholsterers'
galleries. Certain of the wiseacres of the parish—who knows but some of
the occupants of the smaller shops are of the number?—have been freely
commenting on what they call the folly of having built so large a
structure and opened so large a shop in a place where there were so many
shops before. Be this as it may, the building and the shop are there;
and whatever, be the success of the shop, it seems likely it will work
in the direction of absorbing some of the smaller commercial
establishments.

It
is a noteworthy fact, that the ancient custom of" barter" to this day
holds in many Highland parishes. It is daily honoured in the shopkeeping
ways of Stratheden. The tea-loving matron, whose live stock consists of
a dozen or so of barn-door fowls, will go to a shopkeeper with a dozen
of eggs, and get in exchange an ounce of tea, a small package of sugar,
and a few biscuits. The barter transaction is not seldom of a very
unpretending kind. Not many days ago we saw a little girl enter a shop
in the parish with a couple of eggs, and get in return for these two
eggs "a heppany's worth o' washin'-soda and a heppany's worth o' pins."
Nor are eggs the only commodity offered in barter. Butter, potatoes, and
wool do duty in perpetuating this lingering custom; and a week or two
ago we were told of a rather special case of barter that occurred in
Stratheden a few days previously, where a cart was exchanged for a sheep
and a pig!

Some of
the natives—those especially that have travelled but little—have a high
estimate of the importance of the local shops. We know of an incident
that at once illustrates this consciousness of local importance, and
that shows how vague the ideas are that are prevalent among some people
in the far North regarding the size of such places as Glasgow. A few
years ago a Highland shopkeeper went to Glasgow to bring home the
half-yearly supply of "goods." Among those at the shop on the day of his
return was his father, an aged man who had never been much away from the
remote solitudes and the simple ways of his native parish. As the
goods—an assortment of the usual belongings of a Highland shop, and
worth, in the aggregate, about £60 — lay at the shop - door, the amazed
father, proud no doubt that so many of the neighbours were seeing what
he considered the enterprise and importance of his son, observed—"Cha'n
fheumadh Glaschu gum biodh mo mhacsa dol tric ann" (Glasgow could ill
afford that my son would go there often)! The poor old man evidently
thought that, if his son made many such demands on the resources of
Glasgow, it would be time to consider whether the city could really
continue to flourish"!

It must be confessed that, in ordering
"goods," a rather peculiar specimen of letter-writing occasionally finds
its way from the Highland shopkeeper to the "Glessga merchant." As is
the case in other places, and with some other people, the shopkeeper is
not always at home either in grammar or spelling; nor indeed is his
English always clear. An old shopkeeper in the West Highlands, it is
said, in ordering a quantity of shoe-tacks, put the order in this form:
" Wull you be so boot and for to sent me a mile of tacks." The number of
tacks he wanted was one thousand, and the Gaelic for a thousand and for
a mile sounds the same. And even in the matter of addressing letters,
persons of this description have been known to display some rather
amusing eccentricities. Not many years ago a Highland shopkeeper, in
writing to the master of a small coasting-sloop, made a somewhat
remarkable addition to the address. It had been arranged that the
shopkeeper was to write the captain of the sloop to some port at which
the latter was to call, and "to be kept till called for" was to be added
to the address. The shopkeeper adopted an independent plan of indicating
the direction agreed upon, and addressed the letter thus:—

Shopkeeping in
Stratheden and like places is not. ordinarily a toilsome occupation. The
principal transactions take place in the forenoon and late in the
evening. It is probably owing to the procrastinating tendency prevalent
in other places than Highland parishes that so many seem to find a
peculiar fascination in going to the shop at, or very near, closing -
time. The practice, of course, lightens the duties of the day, so far as
the shopkeeper is concerned, but unnecessarily prolongs the late hours
that form a common feature in the shopkeeping, or rather the shopping,
in at least the more rural of Highland parishes. No doubt for a large
portion of the year the croft duties, in the case of many customers,
occasion late shopping, and this may suit the shopkeeper well enough
too; for, in several cases, he likewise has his croft, and it might be
irritating enough, even to the greediest of shopkeepers, to be called
from the field on a fine harvest-day, in uncertain weather, to sell "a
heppany's worth o' washin'-soda," or even to give an ounce of tea in
exchange for half-a-dozen eggs.

In the case of the shopkeeper that has no
croft, the time, as a rule, passes wearily. Ordinarily, he is not what
one would call a great reader, though he considers himself, as some
others do "acquent with lots o' maiters, and a persan o' eddikayshan."
He, of course, gets his newspaper—is not seldom, indeed, a local
news-agent—and his reputation as an "authority" might suffer did he not
keep himself posted up, in a kind of way, in "what the papers are
saying." He does not, however, spend much time over his paper. He soon
reads all he feels an interest in — all, perhaps, that he can understand
; and, inasmuch as his shop duties do not ordinarily occupy much time,
his life, generally speaking, is idle beyond dispute. In rural
districts, where there is so much stillness, and where so many have
little to do, there is a strong curiosity to see what is going on
around, who is on the move, and the phenomenon of a stranger often
excites this curiosity to a very high pitch indeed. The shopkeeper
largely shares in this peculiarity. He has plenty of time, and has at
least as much interest as any other person in the local movements —and a
stranger is a possible customer.

In not a few cases the shopkeeper is
considered by some iii the parish to be a veritable " authority." It is
on local matters especially that he is considered so; and very probably
he owes his investiture with this character in a great measure to the
fact that his position enables him to hear most of the local gossip.
News of most things that happen in "the paerecsh," and, of course, news
of things that never happen, seem to gravitate rapidly towards the shop
as the central local news-office. "They're saying this," and "they're
saying that," are ordinarily the prefaces to the bits of news circulated
in such places, and no one is hungrier than the merchant to hear what
"they're saying." He can tell others, and these will inspire third
parties with a wish to visit the shop to hear what "they're saying," and
somehow it may help the trade of the shop. The shopkeeper at least seems
to think so, and accordingly countenances—nay, strongly encourages—the
news-vending practice. He invariably assumes the bearing of an utterly
impartial listener of the shop gossip. In fact nothing else would pay;
for unfriendly comments are, of course, sometimes made on absent
customers, and these latter would soon hear if "the merchant" said
anything unkind about them.

Archibald Morison is one of the principal
shopkeepers in Stratheden, and a good representative of the fraternity.
He is a man of some sixty years of age, and, though not a native, is
somewhat popular—more so, indeed, than those whom some of the people
call strenjars usually are. His shop, which occupies central position in
the parish, is often largely frequented—not, however, so much by
customers as by loungers and gossips—and contains the usual varied
commodities already referred to. Archy possesses somewhat of what is
called the "gift of the gab," and is considered smart by the sort of
people that usually visit his shop on business, or for hearing what
"they're saying." Some of his so-called smart sayings are weak, and some
indeed are vulgar—coarse, perhaps ; but then, as in all other places,
some of the frequenters of his shop are weak, some vulgar, and a few, it
may be, are coarse. Archy, no doubt, is a decent enough sort of fellow
as the world goes, being, indeed, of a kindly disposition, and,
comparatively speaking, liberal-minded, while many of his customers are
intelligent and highly respectable people; but other types of humanity,
of course, frequent Archy's shop, so that he must try to be "a'body's
body," and have a word for all.

The character of the conversations usually
taking place at Archibald Morison's shop is mixed, and, as a rule,
unedifying and profitless rather than otherwise. Such questions and
comments as the following are often heard: "Was it at Sandy Macgregor
the munnistarr waas last Sawbath? Loash! didna he get it fearfell? Sandy
shouldna be running away to that Moaderat church whatever; am sure,
thotigh there wasna preachin' in oor own church, people shouldna be
wantering to the Moaderats. Loash, try wull Sandy go again! Messtur
Neeculsan was nearly mat aboot it. Ach, Mcsstur Neeculsan can speak
strong—it's hum that can; and he's a quate lad, though he was speaking
so angry agenst the Moaderats; but it's no easy for hum to be seeing his
people wantering to some places. Och, no indeet." Such is a specimen of
the ecclesiastical comments ordinarily ventilated in Archy's shop. The
ecclesiastical, however, form but a portion of the observations usually
advanced. National politics receive a kind of attention, and petty local
prejudices and paltry personalities are too often ventilated. The
political observations sometimes take the following shape: "They're
battlin' terrable in Parlimant aboot wars, and Soloos, and black lads,
and places far away foreign, and that; it would be wiserlike o' them to
send us the tobawca and the tea chape, and send a lot o' the money to
the poor mail." Local prejudices manifest themselves in such expressions
as: "Mercy me! isna Donald Ferragussan's wife a nessty hussy wi' her
silks? It would be better for her to send a grainy, o' meal, to her ould
father and the rest o' her poor freends." Another says, "Did you hear of
the awful quarrall atween the wife o' Angus Maclean, the shuppard, and
the wife o' William Fraser, the plaisturrar? Angus's wife was sayin'
fearfell things aboot William Fraser—that he's a nessty man, though he's
so foand o' speakin' aboot releejan and goin' to meetins; and, indeed,
myself thinks she wassna far wrong. William's a very wicked man, and he
shouldna be askin' the `croft' that my father was in." These must
suffice as specimens of the shop conversations, and we gladly pass from
them in the hope that a growing culture and a more edifying use of time
will elevate the character of at least some of the sentiments now too
often uttered in such places.

Such, generally speaking, is shopkeeping in
the average Highland parish of to-day. One of the principal elements in
the changes of to-day—the increased facilities of communication with the
centres of commerce—has greatly modified its character; and this
influence will very probably continue to be even more powerfully felt,
and that chiefly in the direction of removing what even the natives
themselves now call "the wee bits o' shoppies" to the domain of an
unreturning past.

This comment system requires
you to be logged in through either a Disqus account or an
account you already have with Google, Twitter, Facebook or
Yahoo. In the event you don't have an account with any of these
companies then you can create an account with Disqus. All
comments are moderated so they won't display until the moderator
has approved your comment.